


seal my heart and break my pride

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Conversations, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, One Shot, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15021905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: In Valhalla, a father and his son share a quiet moment before returning to the storm.





	seal my heart and break my pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lena7142](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142/gifts).



> Prompt: "Fix-it where Odin and Loki get a quiet moment alone together in Valhalla, before Odin calls on the strength of all the Allfathers of Asgard from the dawn of time to send Loki back, because Thor cannot do this alone." 
> 
> Happy birthday, portraitoftheoddity! Have some father-son angst. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and especially for commenting. Comments are love. ❤

Loki woke slowly from his dream, a sharp jumbled mess of fire, blue light, and tears. The echo of Thor’s sobs chased him even faster from unconsciousness. That was not a sound he ever needed to hear, awake or asleep. 

In the last few seconds between sleep and wakefulness, he felt something odd. A curious sensation… Comfort. Safety. The absence of pain. 

His eyes blinked open and he woke smiling. 

There was sky above him. Blue, dotted with clouds. The air was cool, slightly salt-tinged. He flexed his hands experimentally and felt... “Grass?”

Perhaps he was still dreaming. Perhaps he—

But he hadn’t been dreaming. He hadn’t even been asleep. He had been on the _Statesman_ , talking with Thor, and then…

And then there had been fire, and screaming, and pain—

_“You will never be a god.”_

Loki’s throat suddenly squeezed shut and his stomach heaved, and he rolled over and retched into the cool grass. There was nothing in his belly for him to puke up, which only made it worse. His abdomen clenched and spasmed, and he spat out saliva and blood and snot until he collapsed in weariness. 

“Not again,” he whimpered against the ground of the other side. “Not again…”

And he wondered why he was even surprised. This had been the plan, after all, even before he and Thor had looked up and seen the enormous shadow of Thanos’s ship descending on their tiny little cargo vessel and blotting out every single star. And he had sworn, to Thor and Heimdall and Valkyrie and Bruce, up down and backwards, that he would do it. That he wasn’t afraid. 

“Once you’ve been dead, it’s nothing really to fear.”

And so clever and smooth were the words of the God of Mischief and Lies, that he had even fooled himself. 

Loki sat up with a groan, pushing his hair back from his sweating face. The cool salty air reminded him of the harbors of Asgard. It felt marvelous on his hot skin, and he opened his mouth and gulped down huge lungfuls of it. Every muscle and bone in his body ached... or did they? Was it pain he was feeling, or only the assumption of pain, after his trials? He glanced at the ground where he had been sick, and saw nothing but pristine, gently waving grass. “Oh, Norns, why? Why does being dead always have to be so bloody confusing?”

He sat quietly for a few moments and took in his surroundings, and then looked down at himself. This was Midgard, surely. He even recognized the place: the cliff in Norway, where he and Thor had watched Odin succumb to his end, and where they had first faced Hela. but he was wearing neither the black suit of his last trip to Earth nor the dashing Sakaarian leathers. Instead, he was dressed plainly, in green wrap tunic, brown leggings, soft boots. Simple Asgardian clothes. 

Rising slowly to his feet, Loki scanned the grassy hill, but saw nothing. Instinctively he tried to call his daggers to his hands. None came. 

“Apparently brave blades don’t go to Valhalla when they die… but this can’t be it,” he muttered.

“What were you expecting?”

Loki whirled around, badly startled, and then gasped at the man who had suddenly appeared, mere inches away. “Father?”

“I’m pleased to hear you name me so,” said Odin quietly. Like Loki, he was wearing Asgardian attire – hunting dress, Loki realized, after a moment. Well-worn red and brown leather, rather than a king’s gold raiment. “It’s been a very long time since you called me that.”

“I...” His throat tightened absurdly. “I had some things to figure out.”

“I know, my son.”

Odin’s voice was so gentle, his eye so wistful, that Loki couldn’t stand it. The lump in his throat was almost choking him... “What is this place?”

“Valhalla, of course.”

“...Truly?”

“Oh yes.” The bearded lips twitched. “What did you think to find here? Golden halls, long feasting tables, endless drinking?”

“And days of bloody battles ending in all the warriors putting themselves back together again and laughing over the fine time they just had, yes! It’s what we were taught. I suppose I thought...” A bright, brittle smile curved Loki’s mouth. “I wasn't really expecting to be here at all.”

Odin sighed and looked out over the water. “I think you have more right to be here than I do.”

Loki opened his mouth to say something angry – and then stopped himself. Confused, he rubbed his thumb against his palm. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. This was some sort of test, he was certain, if not an actual hallucination. There had been a lot of those, the last time he’d died. “Is Mother here?”

“She is.”

“Can I see her? Please?”

“Soon, my son.” Odin patted his arm fondly. “Soon. Come, sit with me.” And he indicated the same grouping of rocks where he had last gathered with his sons. 

With a feeling of morbid uncertainty, Loki followed. “No, no,” Odin said, when Loki would have seated himself at Odin’s right. “Here, where I can see you.”

Gingerly, Loki lowered himself to the stone on Odin’s left, feeling as though he was sitting on hot coals. And he waited. 

It took him a few moments to realize that he was waiting for Odin to ask about Thor. After all, what else could he possibly want of Loki, especially now that there was nothing else—

“I wasn’t able to tell you before, there wasn’t time, but I appreciated your visits to me, when I was in the place of the elders.”

Loki glanced sideways at him, eyebrows climbing into his hair, and fought an impulse to flee. “You’re joking. I took your powers, addled your brain, and abandoned you on Earth, and now you’re saying you liked it when I visited you?”

“Yes. There was anger in my heart, and grief and homesickness, but even then, you were still my son, and it did me good to see you come into my room. And,” Odin continued, “I seem to recall that it was of some benefit to you as well.”

“…Some, I suppose. Yes.” 

It had never been his intention to see Odin again, once he had left him in the capable hands of the nursing home staff, and explained that his father had succumbed to dementia after the death of his wife. He had paid for the services (using funds that he had gently appropriated from SHIELD, Stark Industries, and a few other places who would never miss or be able to trace such small amounts) and left. 

And then… he had gone back, begrudgingly, not even sure why he was visiting a man he knew he hated, a man who no longer consistently recognized him or knew his own name. And after that visit, he had come back again the next month. And the next.

“You were the only person I could talk to,” Loki murmured. “There was no one on Asgard I trusted enough to reveal myself to. And even if I had, who can a king talk to about the state of his realm and the burden of rule, but another king?”

“A queen, typically.”

“Yes, well, that option wasn’t exactly open to me while I was pretending to be you.” Then Loki snorted. “Though honestly, given how unshocked everyone at court was when Thor forced me to reveal myself, now, I have to wonder. I knew partway through my ‘reign’ that people knew something was amiss with the king, but all the rumors I heard seemed to chalk it up to Odin becoming senile. That’s where the idea came from,” he added, “to hide you among the old of Midgard.”

Odin chuckled appreciatively. “Clever boy.” His amusement faded quickly. “I remember when all your cleverness and mischief was directed at making people laugh.”

“…That was a long time ago.”

“I know.” Odin seemed to wish to say more, and then to think better of it. Or perhaps, to lose his courage. “You have a last task to perform.”

Ah, so here it was. This was the test Loki had to pass. “Which is?”

“You have a decision to make. You can stay here, if you like. With me. Frigga is waiting for us just beyond that rise.” Odin nodded his head at a gentle roll of grass in the distance, and Loki turned and looked hopefully, straining for even a glimpse of his mother’s form. “Or I can restore you to life, and you can return to Thor and help our people find a new home.”

“Restore...?” Loki’s head spun. “ _How?_ ”

Odin spread his hands. “You were right to say that Thanos is no god. Anyone can destroy life. Not all can restore it. But I am still an All-father, and whomever that power choses, it does not forsake, not even in death.”

“Then why not help Thor yourself, if you still have so much power? Why not let me rest? I’m so… so _tired_ of all of it.”

“In sending you back, I am helping Thor. This is a time of great trial for him. He needs you, Loki. Needs your strength, your cleverness, your loyalty. The love of his brother.”

Something writhed in Loki's gut. Something hot and angry. “When Thor needed the strength and wisdom of his father, you abandoned him. Just as you abandoned me when I most needed your love and compassion.”

“I had no wish to die,” said Odin sharply. “Do you think I planned to slip away and leave you both to face your sister alone? I grieved to do it!”

“Oh, you _grieved..._ ”

“Why do you twist my words?”

The echo of that night in the vault sent a shockwave through Loki, and as it had that night, something snapped.

“You could have told us the truth!” he exploded, hurling a dart of fiery seidr at his father. Odin parried it easily but was plainly stricken by the attack. “Both of us, all of it! You brought us up on fairy tales and pretty promises, and now we have nothing! No home, no people, just your legacy of bloody conquest and shame in your children. You took me away from my birth family, locked me away from my adopted family, and then just when Thor and I needed your help, you abandoned us both.”

The torrent of vitriol took its toll on him, or else in this place of the dead, there was no need any longer for walls between fathers and sons. Loki sank to his knees in the grass, crying. “All I ever wanted was to be equal with Thor in your eyes, but I was never enough. And now you won’t even let me stay dead, because of Thor.”

He felt Odin’s hand touch his head, and then hesitantly begin to stroke his hair, and his first impulse was to push his father away… but he did nothing. He only wept. 

“It is your choice, my son,” said Odin softly. “If you wish to remain, no one will think less of you for it. Least of all myself, when this is my fault.”

Loki took a shaky breath and looked up. 

“I feel it, and know it. And it is far too late for me to make amends for my failings. But you, Loki: you’ve earned your place in the halls of Valhalla. It is your right to stay. It is not for Thor that I offer to restore you, or even for the sake of the universe. It is for _you_.”

“I don’t… I…”

Odin framed Loki’s face in his hands and gently wiped his eyes. “Any father should be willing to give up his life for his children. I’ve failed both of my sons so many times before, and you, Loki, even more. I could not will myself to live long enough to help you fight your sister, and I cannot return to help Thor now that he needs me, but I can give back the life that was taken from you by Thanos.”

“Some of it, perhaps...” Loki’s hand strayed absently to his throat, and then he snatched it away. “It should never have gone so far. With Hela. You should have told us the truth.”

Odin nodded. “I know. I should have told you so much more. I should have trusted you more.”

“When did you ever lack for trust in Thor?”

“You, Loki. I should have trusted _you_ more.”

“I did everything I could to earn your trust.”

“I know. That was my failing. A son should never need to earn his father’s trust, or respect. Or love.” Odin pressed a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

A strange and terrible calm came over Loki. “I never thought I would hear those words from you,” he murmured, leaning against his father. For a long time, they stayed that way, with Loki’s tall lean form pressed in close to Odin’s compact strength. 

Finally, Loki sighed and scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “Well, that settles it, I suppose. I had to die to get it, but… I got what I wanted. Now I _have_ to go back.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Loki stood up, brushing off his clothes and, without realizing it until Odin’s hand was clasped in his, offering his father help in rising. “Tempting as the thought of finally having my parents all to myself is, we both know I’m not made to be dead. It’s boring. Besides, Thor will never defeat Thanos on his own. He needs me.”

The old man smiled proudly at his son. “I’d hoped that would be your decision.”

“You doubted me.”

“I expected you to choose rest over further battle, after everything you’ve suffered. Your mother believed otherwise.”

Loki’s throat closed up again, not in pain this time but in sorrow. “Can’t I see her?” he asked, pleadingly, like a little child. “Just once, before I go back?”

“If I could make that happen, my son, I would, in an instant. But Frigga can come no farther, and now neither may you. But she sends you a gift to take back with you.” Odin’s eye crinkled at its corner. “A pair of old friends.”

Loki looked down at his hands and saw patterns of glittering golden seidr, a signature of magic as familiar as his mother’s kiss upon his cheek, forming in his palms. In a moment they solidified, and he threw back his head and laughed as his fingers closed around the well-worn hilts of the favorite daggers he had thought gone for good. 

“I might have known,” he crowed, holding up the golden-hafted blades to the light, and tracing with his eyes the runic inscription upon the silver metal. “‘May my aim be true and my wounds lethal.’ I might have known Mother wouldn’t let her gifts to me stay lost forever.”

“A prince of Asgard must have his most trusted weapons to take with him into battle, and you will need all of them, if you and Thor are to defeat Thanos.”

Loki’s grin was bloodthirsty. “You think an Asgardian blade will have more effect upon a Titan than a Sakaarian one, then?”

“I think,” said Odin, “that the God of Mischief can do more damage with a pair of daggers than an entire legion of Einherjar could do. But I was referring to more than mere blades.” He clasped Loki’s shoulder firmly. “Trust in your worth, my son, as Thor does. As your mother does.” Odin’s eye shone brightly, and then to Loki’s shock, Odin pulled him into a tight embrace. “As I do.” 

Loki clung to his father awkwardly, his daggers still in his hands, and squeezed his eyes shut. The tears came again anyway. “I won’t fail you, Father,” he promised, when Odin reluctantly stepped back. 

“Live. Fight. Be worthy of the people who depend upon you.” Odin touched Loki’s cheek. “I can ask for no more than that.”


End file.
